About Me

I'm a married momma of 2 funny and active boys - one very talkative 9 year old (the kid, born Feb '06), and one busy 5 year old (baby E, born Sept '10). I'm also a social worker with an unusual amount of knowledge about pregnancy for someone who's never experienced it firsthand. This blog is the telling of my journey to and through motherhood, with some sarcasm thrown in.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

My favorite part of Christmas

So Christmas wasn't as awful as I'd been afraid it would be. It wasn't magical (for me at least), but it was fine. I think my favorite part overall was just not having to deal with school and work (for hubby; I still went to work many days). I still feel like I need a week or two to recover and get all the things done that didn't get done (lord how I hate laundry). But, well, you know how that goes.

However, there is one moment that stands out as my absolute favorite memory. You might think it has to do with decorating cookies (God, no. That was stressful and I lost my shit over the most ridiculous thing while we were doing that. So much so that I need to decide whether we need to do those ever again. And, that's solely contingent on whether I can behave myself, mind you). Or how grateful the kids were for all of their gifts (and they were, but, well, that's not exactly memorable). Or how enthralled E was with the Christmas concert (he was, totally. And I did enjoy that, but the kid was in BIG TROUBLE and that stress overshadowed the concert and many other things). Or how the boys seemed to "get" why we were taking so many presents to another family (they did, and then sat glued to the tv at the family's house because holycrapthetvisON!!!!).
But no. It was none of those things.

So let me tell you what it was.

It was Christmas Day. We were at hubby's paternal grandmother's house. Now, FIL is one of 12 (yes, 12) children. And hubby has like 50 something (maybe more?) first cousins. And many of those cousins now have children, too. And hubby's grandmother's house is about, I don't know, 1500sq ft. So, family gatherings are, um, chaotic, busy, loud, chaotic, shoulder-to-shoulder-packed-in-there, chaotic... you get the picture. Everyone brings a dish and lunch is potluck style down in the basement. It's chaotic. (Have I mentioned that yet?) For some reason, there's never any alcohol there. Now, this is a huge Catholic family so I really don't know why there's no alcohol. But there just never is. Perhaps with that many people in that small of a space it wouldn't be a good idea. Tho I tend to think it would. For me at least.

Everyone was settling down to eat. The boys and I were sitting at a card table with hubby on the couch right next to us. FIL's fiance (topic for a different post. Or 3.) and my SIL were also sitting with us. E was clearly hungry and was shoveling food into his mouth. The kid was super distracted by everything going on and hardly could finish a sentence before something else grabbed his attention, much less actually finish a bite of food.

One of hubby's aunts popped her head down the stairs and asked if anyone would like a glass of wine. Before anyone else had time to even process her question (because, what? Wine? Here? What the what?), I looked over and noticed that my sweet, quiet, innocent 4yo's hand had SHOT up into the air. He was sitting as tall as he could in his seat, holding his arm completely straight, waving that little hand like his life depended on it. His eyes were huge and his mouth slightly open in a little "o". He wasn't taking his eyes of hubby's aunt. He didn't make a peep. He wanted that wine, y'all.

And I died (DIED!!!!!) laughing. Like, tears streaming down my face, about to fall out of my seat, my face hurts, laughing.

Hubby's aunt, also died laughing. And then she said, "does anyone besides E want some wine?". And everyone caught on to what had just happened and the room erupted in laughter.

E slowly caught on that he wasn't going to get the wine. And, since he doesn't at all enjoy being the center of attention, he slowly put his hand down and resumed eating, not making eye contact with anyone.

Before you start to think that he just thought it was juice, or just something special in general. Let me clarify. This child really does like wine. He'll steal sips of it whenever he can. He is a wine thief.

After we'd been sitting there a few minutes, and everyone had moved on and was eating happily, I heard my sweet baby E mutter under his breath, "but I do want the wine. I do. I DO!".

And I died laughing again.

I love this child, y'all. Love. Him.

Today's Lesson: Some of us are planners. And some of us planners think we can plan fun. Plan joy. Plan magic. But the best of those things, well, they just happen. And usually when we least expect them.